Ring around a rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
We all fall down.
That childhood song played through my mind as I stare at the blazing inferno in front of me. Memories of a morbid childhood roll before my eyes like a black and white film reminding me. I turn away and walk towards my car as the screams began to fade. You would think feelings of grief would be coursing through my veins at the sight of my last family members perishing; if you can call them that. In the middle of nowhere, a crumbling mansion of black smoke and red embers burn through the night. Inside are my two step-sisters and my step-mother.
It’s a great sin that I had committed or an act of justice depending on who you are when it came to knowing those three. For me it’s like a great burden has been lifted from my shoulders, and my need for revenge has been sated. Those women put me through hell from the moment I laid eyes on them. My father had finally decided to take another wife after the passing of my mother all those years ago. I can’t lie though; I was excited to have another mother and two siblings. Plus, my father had started smiling again and interacting with people other than myself. I thought it to be a good thing that they appeared.
I was terribly wrong. My father had brought his new bride and her two children to our mansion in the woods not far from Chicago. Stella, my step-mother, was an odd looking woman with blonde hair, alabaster skin, and smoky eyes too far apart on her face. She continuously carried a scowl on her face unless she was talking to my father, her daughters, or someone she needed to be nice to. Needless to say, her daughters were far much worse than she. They appeared all sweet and innocent with blue doe eyes and golden blonde tendrils falling from their perfect little heads. Those little demons immediately went to play with me, and then turned around and started bullying me.
That childhood song would forever haunt me. That was the little game we played before they decided to push me down a hill. I ended up breaking my arm, and when I tried to tell my father what happened, he blamed me. Things went on like this for a while when I was young, and all the while father and I grew further apart. I had my hair snatched out of my head, I had bruises and broken bones, and got slapped a few times by my father because of those little demons. Things were bad and had gone worse when I hit the ripe age of fifteen. The sisters were just a year younger than me.
My father had died on my fifteenth birthday from a heart attack. Later down the line, I found out that it was my step-mother who killed him with some type of poison. I overheard her talking to her daughters one day.
“Now that he’s gone, the money is all ours my sweets,” Stella said to her daughters.
“What about the house mother?” asked Prudence, one of the evil sisters.
“He left it to that little brat, Isabella! No worries love, I have something in mind when the time comes. We just have to wait till she comes of age.”
I shook with anger and hatred after hearing their conversation. It only confirmed all of what I felt, saw, and went through all these years with them. My heart broke for my father because he truly loved Stella, Prudence, and Perdi. He was no longer here, so I took the betrayal as my own and began to plan my way out. I’d just had to wait till my eighteenth birthday. Until then, I would have to endure the endless hell these bitches put me through.
The only luck I had was that I didn’t attend the same high school as the step-sisters. At school is where I found time to plot my revenge against them. I could have easily gone to the police and told them what I overheard, but I didn’t want to chance them knowing what I knew and getting away with it. After my father had passed, their treatment of me worsened as the days went on. All it did was fuel my anger, and for that I was grateful. That anger gave me the strength I needed to overcome my troubles and push through their abuse.
The bullying I had faced at school due to my ragged and baggy clothing was nothing. I endured it because in the end it was not as bad as what I went through at home. There was a time where a teacher of mine was concerned and called my step-mother to complain about my clothing and lack of money for lunch. Of course, my step-mother played nice and put the blame on me. The bloody mouth and multiple bruises that followed that night forced me to go out and look for a job to pay for school and clothes. Little did they know I saved up enough to start a new life by the time I turned eighteen.
It wasn’t until later when I found out that my father not only gave me the house, but the money as well if anything was to happen to my step-family. This ignited the burn within even further to pay them their due, but patience is a virtue.
This story was inspired by Cinderella. It’s more modern day and without a prince. Hope you all enjoy.